


Game of Survival

by followinglilies



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Angst, Blood and Violence, F/M, POV Alternating, So much death, sorry i dont make the rules, we have to get 24 down to 1
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-05-03 18:11:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14574687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/followinglilies/pseuds/followinglilies
Summary: When Octavia Blake's name is picked in the reaping her chances of survival are slim to none. Things only get harder when she begins to get attached to her fellow tribute.Lincoln was ready to do what he had to do to survive but when he first met Octavia, the entire game changed.Will they be able to do what they have to do for a chance at victory? Will either of them make it out alive? Or will they learn life may be about more than just surviving.





	1. Reaping Day

**Author's Note:**

> Here is the first chapter, told from Octavia's POV. Hope you enjoy! Your feedback is greatly appreciated!

OCTAVIA BLAKE hadn’t slept at all. She never did on nights before the reaping. When she was younger she would try but she was always awoken by the worst of nightmares. From ages 6 to 12 it was always Bellamy’s name being called from the stage. Bellamy’s blood being spilled on her television screen. But when she became old enough it was her turn to star in her nightmares. That’s when she gave up on trying to sleep. She knew she had reason to be afraid. Her name was entered into the reaping 16 times, once for each year since she had turned twelve, and the rest from the tesserae she had taken to feed her family. Growing up, Bellamy had taken tesserae for her family each year of the reaping. When Octavia turned 12 she offered to do the same but Bellamy and her mother both refused. However, the next year Bellamy had aged out of the reaping and Octavia quickly saw her family was going to starve. So every year from then on she took tesserae for each member of her family and entered her name three extra times. And every month when they collected rations she dealt with a lecture from Bellamy on how she shouldn’t have done it. And every time she swore she wouldn’t do it again. And every year she did. 

So on the morning of her fifth reaping she stood pacing around the small room that made up the majority of their home. Her mother still slept on the old mattress in the corner and Bellamy had left for work a few hours earlier while she had pretended to sleep. She had felt Bellamy walk to her and place a hand gently on her head and although her eyes were closed she could tell he was just as worried as she was.

She wanted nothing more than to go outside and run as fast as she could. She wanted to feel the earth underneath her feet and the breeze against her cheeks. She knew she couldn’t. Not on reaping day. The whole district was crawling with peacekeepers just looking for a reason to get someone like her into trouble. Besides, Octavia didn’t have a great history with the law. She had never done enough to get her arrested but she was an expert at pushing her luck and saying things she probably shouldn’t. When she was younger her mother would tell her that they would enter her name into the reaping everytime she got sent to the principal’s office. She had learned long ago that wasn’t true which is a blessing because otherwise her name would probably fill half of the bowl.

She hadn’t always been a problem child. When she was younger she would listen to Bellamy, keeping her head down and doing as she was told. But as she grew older she felt like she had awoken from a deep sleep. She was so used to the twisted ways of the world she lived in she had stopped questioning them. But now when she thought about it her belly filled with a rage so strong there was nothing she could do to hold it in. 

She couldn’t stand the pacing any longer. She threw on her jacket and pushed open the door, opening it just right to try to muffle the creaking as much as possible. The air was cool and brisk against her face and she pulled the jacket tighter around herself to stop from shivering. 

She lived on one of the most dilapidated streets of District 7. Her block was full of small wooden houses built so close to each other you had to turn sideways if you wanted to walk in between them. On normal days there would be neighbors sitting on the steps in front of their houses or people out back hanging laundry. But today the whole street felt eerily empty. 

Octavia started to walk, not quite sure where she was going. Her feet carried her out of her neighborhood and to the edge of town. She was now close to the big gate that led out to the forests where hundreds of people worked cutting down the massive trees. Her brother worked in the mills so she knew there was no risk of him seeing her. There were no peacekeepers in sight, they were probably all in the city square where the reaping would be taking place in a matter of hours. 

She knew she should play it safe but there was also the insatiable part of her that ached to get away, even for an hour or two. So she decided to head out. She had snuck out so many times she had a routine. There was the main gate that all the workers passed through but there was no chance of her getting through as their were guards there, scanning everyone in and out. However, there was also a truck exit about 300 feet down. The gate opened automatically when the hauling trucks buzzed in. The doors were designed to lock back into place automatically but lucky for Octavia nearly all the technology in her district was 50 years old. This meant she had 30 seconds of delay between the door’s close and lock to run out from behind her hiding point in the bushes and sneak through the gate. 

When she finally made it past the gate and into the trees she breathed a sigh of relief. She took a sharp left and headed to the parts of the forest that had already been stripped of most of the good trees. What was left was a valley of stumps and dead trees with empty twisting branches. The view wasn’t the best but it meant she wouldn’t run into any workers so it was her own personal hideaway. 

It took her half an hour to make the trek and by the time she got there her legs were tired and the sun was beating down on her back. She hoisted herself up into a large barren oak and settled on one of the higher branches. As she closed her eyes and faced the sun she considered staying there all day. She could stay right through the reaping and sneak back when the newest tributes had already been sent out to slaughter. They would find out. Arrest her or worse. But at least her death wouldn’t be televised across the nation, bet on like a dog fight, and replayed in garishly edited highlight reels for the remainder of the year. 

But she cleared the thoughts from her head. Her entire family would be punished for her absence. And even if they weren’t Bellamy would surely have a heart attack when she didn’t return. 

She sighed and swung her legs down from the branches. Before her feet could touch the ground she heard footsteps from below her. Her heart hammered and she prayed whoever it was would keep walking. But it obviously wasn’t her lucky day because they stopped right beneath her tree. She glanced down to see a young man sitting down at the base. She pressed herself flat against the trunk. There were no leaves to provide cover so she could only hope he didn’t choose to look up.

She couldn’t make out much from above but she saw a shaved head and dark skin. He was probably in his early twenties, younger than Bellamy but not by much. His massive arms and toned shoulders led her to believe he must have been one of the loggers. 

 

The bark dug into her palms and her back was cramping from her uncomfortable position and she wanted nothing more than for him to get away. But he didn’t seem to be going anywhere anytime soon. In fact he settle in more as he pulled out some type of journal and placed it on his lap. 

He sat there for what felt like hours, making drawings Octavia couldn’t see. As the sun rose in the sky she grew more and more anxious. It was getting near the time of the reaping now. Her brother had most likely returned from the mills already and must be wondering where she was. She figured the man had to move soon but the longer he sat there the more she doubted herself. Everyone was required to go to the reaping but what if he entertained the same thoughts she had earlier in the day. What if he was more courageous than she was and would actually do it. 

She was considering dropping down the backside of the tree and making a run for it when he finally stood. He glanced around briefly before setting off at a jog in the direction he had came. As he left she was able to get a better look at him. He was tall and lean and, from what she could see of his face, rather handsome in a rugged way.

She waited a few minutes, giving him distance, before dropping down from the tree. Her knees screamed in protest after being cramped in the branches for so long and her back felt permanently bent. She took off in a sprint towards the gate.

By the time she made it back to town she was dripping in sweat and covered in dirt. Her heart pounded as she hopped the crumbling concrete steps leading to her front door. She was about to dart inside but voices made her hesitate with her hand on the knob.

“Where on Earth could that damn girl be?” her mother’s exasperated voice carried through the thin walls. 

“Why today, of all days?” she could hear the strain in her brother’s face, could practically see his brows creasing in worry like they always did.

“I’m just glad I don’t have to worry about you being in the reaping anymore,” the words stung at her heart. She tried to tell herself it wasn’t meant like that. Of course her own mother wouldn’t be glad her only daughter was in the reaping as long as her son was fine. But it was useless. She knew it was true. Bellamy worked two jobs. He bought home money and food and made sure they were always safe. Octavia was good for nothing except trouble and a measly amount of rations.

“Don’t say that, mom. I would enter my name a hundred times if it meant I could keep her safe. You know that.” 

Octavia felt herself tearing up. Maybe her emotions were just running high but she wanted to run inside and hug her brother. But his words made her realize she agreed with her mother for once in her life. She was glad Bellamy was safe. 

She turned her hand on the knob and rushed inside the door. Bellamy ran over to her immediately. He pulled her in for a hug that normally would have made her roll her eyes but instead she melted into it. 

The warm moment was quickly interrupted.

“Where were you?” her mother demanded.

She stayed silent. She knew they were all very aware of where she had been. And even if they weren’t they could make an educated guess from the dirt that stained her clothes, clung to her hair, and dripped down her face in sweaty streaks.

“You need to get cleaned up,” her mother sighed, deciding there was no time to fight her. 

Octavia rushed through a cold bath in the metal tub and stood shivering as her mom held out a dress for her. The dress was the same as she had worn to the reaping for the past three years. Her mother was a seamstress and had made enough adjustments to keep it fitting but the once pretty blue had faded to a dull gray. 

“Mom,” Bellamy said once she had changed, “I don’t see why we can’t just get her a new dress. Maybe something a little less...old?”

He reached out and playfully tugged on the old faded sleeve. Octavia giggled and felt the knot in her chest loosen ever so slightly.

“You know we don’t have the money, Bellamy,” she sighed, “Besides, I don’t see the point of dressing nicely to go off to this sick slaughterhouse auction.”

The knot in her chest returned and Octavia felt like she was going to be sick. Suddenly the whole world seemed to sway around her and she felt panic rising in her chest. She tried to back away but her foot caught on one of the floorboards and she nearly fell flat on her back. Bellamy stuck out his arm and caught her, giving her a comforting squeeze around her shoulders. 

“Listen to me, Octavia,” her mother’s voice softened the slightest bit, and she grabbed her daughter’s hands in her own. “I know you’re afraid but you remember how to slay the demon.”

Octavia nodded. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

“I am not afraid.”

“Good,” her mother released her hands, “Now let’s do something about that hair.”

Octavia was more than capable of doing her own braids but her mother insisted. She yanked the brush hard through the tangles and twisted her hair tight, securing any strands that dared to fly loose with pins that dug into her scalp.

“That’ll do,” her mother sighed. 

“You look amazing,” Bellamy beamed but Octavia could see the fear in his eyes despite his attempts to hide it. 

It was time to go. Bellamy took her hand in his and held it tight as they walked out the door and down the dusty street. They were joined by a stream of others. Children walked with their heads low, many of their little faces red and streaked with tears. Mothers, fathers, and older siblings all tried to reassure the young ones they weren’t going to get picked. At least Octavia could appreciate the fact that her mother never filled her with false hope. Because out of all the people who insisted there was no way it would be them, one of them had to be wrong.

As they got closer to the main square the crowds grew thicker and so did her anxiety. She tried to focus on keeping her feet underneath her and repeating her mantra. I am not afraid. 

They got to the line and Bellamy had to leave her side. He went to stand with his mother and the other families but he never tore his eyes away. Octavia found her place with the others. I am not afraid.

They pricked her finger and signed her in. She went to stand with the rest of the sixteen year olds. Scanning the crowd, wondering which of the faces wouldn’t return. I am not afraid.

The video program started and Octavia did her best to block it out. It was the same crap as every year. Explaining the past and how they got to that point. Every year when they came home Bellamy would rant about that video. He would go on for hours about the way it twisted the true history. He would keep talking until their mother had enough and yelled at them both to go to bed. Octavia closed her eyes and wanted nothing more than to skip through the Reaping and get to Bellamy’s rant. I am not afraid.

After the video was a short speech from the mayor. For Octavia, it went in one ear and out the other. Her heart was pounding now. She turned and tried to find her brother’s face in the sea of people behind her but she couldn’t place him in the crowd. I am not afraid.

“Ladies first.” The shrill voice of the Capitol escort made Octavia want to run on stage and punch her in the face. Her legs were shaking know, she tried to stop her knees from knocking together. She’d been in this spot for 5 years now. It should get easier. But it ever did. I am not afraid.

Her painted nails seemed to reach in the massive fishbowl for an eternity. It seemed to take eons for her to walk to the microphone and unfold the small slip that contained someone’s doom. I am not afraid.

Her lips parted and she spoke the name but Octavia didn’t hear it. All she could hear was a roaring in her ears and the rabbit heart racing inside her chest. She saw everyone around in the crowd turn and face her. Oh god, why were they all looking at her? I am not afraid.

“Octavia Blake,” the escort read the name a second time and Octavia heard it loud and clear. I am not afraid.

Someone must have shoved her because her feet seemed to move forward against her will. The crowd parted as she made the long walk to the stage. I am not afraid.

When she made it out of the crowd she heard an ear splitting cry. A deep bellow rose up from the back of the crowd. She turned around and saw her brother pushing through the mass of bodies. Her heart stopped. He was ten feet away from her when the guards caught him. He was angry like she had never seen him before. He hit the nearest peacekeeper right in the ribs before turning around and kneeing another one in the crotch. There was a flurry of limbs for a minute before a shock baton elicited a sharp cry and her brother fell to his knees. He was dragged off and out of her sight. Her vision started to go black and she had to choke back the sobs threatening to rise in her throat. 

“Come on now, just a little ways more,” the escort gestured to her impatiently but Octavia continued her slow march to the stage.

Everyone’s eyes were on her, a mix of pity, sadness, and relief filled the crowd. 

“Okay, now for the gentlemen,” the escort was clearly eager to keep things moving as she quickly yanked a name out.

“Lincoln Woods,” she read quickly. 

The crowd parted again and she saw her fellow tribute make his way to the stage. It took Octavia a minute to process it was the man from the woods. She was surprised to learn he wasn’t older but his large frame was unmistakable. There were no shouts of grief or cries of pain. He walked slowly but surely to the stage and took his place next to her. The features she had once considered attractive now seemed harsh and threatening as she imagined them hovering over her with a sword to her throat or a massive rock ready to crush her skull. 

“Alright shake hands you two.”

His hands were calloused and warm and his grip was strong and she couldn’t help but think about how easily he could crush her windpipe with it. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, your tributes from District 7.”

As the crowd half heartedly cheered all Octavia could do was keep repeating her mantra to herself. I am not afraid.

I am not afraid.

I am not afraid.


	2. Goodbyes

OCTAVIA barely made it down the stairs that lead off the side of the stage. When they reached the bottom of the steps she hesitated. A peacekeeper grabbed her elbow and pulled her forward but she jerked away. Suddenly adrenaline shot through her veins and she couldn’t think straight. She pushed as hard as she could and tried to run into the crowd. She wanted to lose herself in the flow of bodies now leaving out the square. Maybe if she ran fast enough she could make it all the way to the fence, out the gate and into the woods. She would never look back. But the peacekeeper caught her shoulder with his gloved hands and yanked back so hard Octavia swore she heard something pop out of place. 

They made a short walk to the capitol building where Octavia was escorted into a small room. She heard the doors click shut behind her as soon as she had entered. It was easily the nicest room she had ever been in. Generally, District 7 was true to the reputation of a middle district, they were far from wealthy but they did a good job of hiding their poor on the outskirts of towns. If you went into the town square you wouldn’t see the poverty. There was certainly no extravagance but little storefronts stood in neat lines. There were modest houses for modest families. It looked nothing like the neighborhood she called home. The Capitol building was easily the most exquisite building of them all. Octavia had never been inside before but she had often marveled at the massive stone columns and large oak doors. She resented the people inside it but she couldn’t deny it’s powerful beauty. 

Somehow, it was even more luxurious on the inside. The walls were a rich scarlet and the hardwood floors were polished and shiny, very different from the dusty floorboards in her home that creaked underneath even the lightest touch. The room was sparsely furnished but it was still nicer than anything she had ever laid eyes on. There was a small leather couch on one side and angled across from it was a red loveseat. There was even an ottoman pushed close to the foot of the chair. As if they expected her to put her feet up and relax as she made her final goodbyes.

Goodbye. The word caught in her mind like barbed wire. She was going to have to say goodbye. She may never see her family again. Never see her crumbling old home again. Never see the woods again. She had never been fond of the place she called home. She had few friends, half her classmates teased her incessantly and the other half was too scared of getting dragged into her trouble. Most of her memories were of hunger and hardship. But now, faced with leaving, she longed to stay forever.

She was pulled out of her thoughts by the click of the lock. The heavy door opened and her mother stepped into the room. Octavia stared expectantly at the door and her heart dropped into her boots when it slammed behind her mother.

“Where’s Bellamy?” the words cracked as they left her lips.

“Octavia, listen to me,” her mother strode towards her. Octavia could tell from her eyes something was wrong.

“Wheres Bellamy?” Octavia asked again, this time her voice was stronger but still shook as she spoke.

“Octavia, you need to calm down.” Her mother was doing damage control already.

“Where is he?” she was shouting now. She ran to the door and slammed her fists against it.

“Stop this right now,” her mother’s words were firm and so was the grip on her arm as she dragged her daughter away from the door.

“Mom, answer me,” she yanked her arm out of the iron grasp. 

“I don’t know where he is. I lost him after...after he..after you…” she trailed off. Octavia was shaken enough by the tone in her voice that she took a seat on the couch. Her mother had always been one for tough love, maybe too tough at times. She had never seen her mother like this, tears were gathering in her eyes and she wrung her hands nervously. 

“Is he alright?” Octavia’s voice was a whimper now.

“He can handle himself. You need to focus, we don’t have much time.”

“Time for what?” her mother seemed to ignore her question. She placed a hand on Octavia’s knee and continued to speak frantically. 

“You need to remember everything I’ve taught you. You are not afraid,” she squeezed hard and a tear escaped at the words they had so often shared, “I always dreaded this day would come. You’re smarter than I give you credit for Octavia Blake. And you’re too stubborn for your own good. You’re a fighter. That’s why I’ve been so hard on you. You’ve never made it easy for me. Don’t make it easy for them.”

Octavia wasn’t entirely sure she understood her mother’s words. This was the most emotional she’d ever acted in front of her and it wasn’t helping calm her nerves.

“Above all, you need to remember one thing,” her mother spoke quickly but softly, as if she didn’t want to be overheard. “You hate the Capital, I do too. But there is only one way you can win this Octavia.”

“Mom, what are you talking about? You’re scaring me,” she regretted the words instantly. She felt like she was six again, hiding in the corner as her mother gave one of her lectures.

“You need to play the game Octavia. That’s the only way you’ll make it back alive.”

The doors swung open and Octavia choked. 

“Time’s up.”

Her mother pulled her in tight and planted a kiss on her forehead. Octavia had never gotten along with their mother. Their relationship was stained with fights and silent resentment. Some days she would lay awake at night hoping her mother disappear. But in that moment. Octavia wanted nothing more than to hold onto her forever.

But her mother pulled away. She turned towards the door and didn’t look back despite Octavia’s shouts. She pushed out the room as quickly as possible. But before the doors sealed shut she could swear she heard sobs coming from the woman. Then everything was quiet.

The doors stayed closed and Octavia slid out of the chair, collapsing onto the floor. Heavy sobs wracked her chest and she glared angrily at the doors through her tears. She waited and waited, counting the minutes in her head. She grabbed the closest object to her, which happened to be the ottoman, and threw it at the infuriating unmoving panels of wood.

“Stupid Bellamy!” she shouted, not caring how crazy she sounded. 

Her brother just had to go and attack a peacekeeper. Now he might be locked up or worse. And she never even got to say goodbye. She wouldn’t get to say goodbye to the one person who truly mattered to her, the one person she knew would be there for her.

She heard the lock click once more. It was probably the guards coming to take her away. Maybe she should fight them. If she was quick enough she could get in a few good hits before they took her to the ground. What’s the worst they could do, kill her?

She clenched her fists and pulled herself off the floor as the door creaked open.

If her heart had sunk to her boots when she saw her mother it was surely under the floor now. Standing in front was Bellamy. She rushed forward into his arms. He held her tight, burying his head in the top of her hair. She could feel his chest heaving with sobs and she was sure he could feel hers do the same.

“You came?” Octavia gasped when they finally pulled away.

“Are you kidding me, O?” his voice was completely raw, “No amount of peacekeepers could stop me from seeing my baby sister.”

“I can’t do this Bell,” it rushed out of her, the thought that had been lurking since her name was first called. She was going to lose. She was going to die. 

“No. You can. I don’t know anyone tougher than you. You...you can handle this,” he sounded genuine but the fear in his voice undermined the confidence of his statement.

“You know I can’t” she insisted, “The others, they’ve trained for years. I’ve never held a weapon. The only fights I’ve been in are fist fights in the school yard. They’ll tear me to shreds.”

“None of that matters,” he looked at her intensely now, “You know how to survive. You can climb trees. You’re fast and sneaky. Find food, find water, stay away from the others. Just remember, you only need to kill one.”

“Oh god, Bell. Kill. Kill? I’ve never killed anyone,” She felt like she might be sick. The world spun and she sat down on the leather cushion to prevent herself from passing out.  
“I’m sorry O, I shouldn’t have said that,” he reached out and brushed a tear from her face. “But it’s just one. And then you’ll be home. And I’ll never let anything bad happen to you ever again.”

She leaned into his shoulder and he rubbed her back the way he used to after she awoke from a nightmare. 

“Here wait, I have something for you,” he tried to force a smile but it turned out twisted and wrong.

He reached around his neck and unclasped the chain that always hung there. He placed the small metal token in her hands. She didn’t have to look to know what it was. It was the necklace he had worn for as long as she could remember. It was a beat up metal dog tag. He found it on the outskirts of the woods when he had started running supplies at the age of twelve. She still remembered the glimmer in his eyes when he brought it home and showed it to her. He claimed it was a precious part of history. It had belonged to a soldier in a war long before their times. Before the Capital, or the districts, or the games. Octavia asked who the soldier was. But Bellamy explained that was what made it so precious. He didn’t know who it belonged to, but he insisted it must have been someone of great heroism. At bedtime he would make up stories about the mystery soldiers. Sometimes they would be realistic tales of gritty battles and betrayals. Other times the soldier would be slaying three-headed snakes. When she got older she rolled her eyes at the stories but she still knew how special the tag was to Bellamy.

“Bell, I can’t take this,” her hands shook and she tried to push it back towards him, “it’s yours.”

“Well consider it a loan,” he took it from her and clasped it around her neck, “return it when you come home.”

Octavia nodded and rushed in for another hug. 

“Times up.”

“NO!” Octavia’s chest nearly collapsed as her heart threatened to break her rib cage. She had so much more to say. It couldn’t be time yet. It couldn’t be goodbye.

“I love you so much, O,” Bellamy began to step away but Octavia clung to him desperately. She was certain when he left the room all her oxygen would go with. 

“I need to go,” Bellamy glanced uneasily over his shoulder, one guard was already pulling out his shock baton. “But I’ll see you again, okay?”

Bellamy firmly but gently pulled her away. He backed towards the door, his eyes on her the whole time. Tears made tracks down his freckled cheeks and Octavia squeezed her eyes shut, hoping this was all an awful dream. When she opened them again he was halfway out the door.  
“Wait!” she cried out. Bellamy pivoted on his heel and managed to keep the door open as the peacekeeper shoved against him.

 

“I love you big brother,” her voice was barely more than a whimper. She couldn’t even be sure he heard her. But the doors slammed shut once more. She knew there would be no more visitors. The next time they opened it would be her escort to the train station. 

She wanted to collapse onto the floor again, to shriek and bang her fists. But she stayed fixed in place. She dried her tears and took a deep breath.

Let the games begin.


	3. The Train

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The tributes meet each other and their mentor for the first time as they make their way to the Capitol.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the first chapter from Lincoln's POV. Sorry for the long wait! I'm hoping to publish a bit more consistently from here on out.

LINCOLN sat on the still train, his forehead leaned against the window. A steady rain had started falling and although the walls of the cushy cabin muffled the sound he could still hear the drops hit heavy against the metal frame of the train. He was grateful for the rain, it had clouded the windows with condensation and stopped the cameras from peering in at him.

He had walked quickly past the reporters that filled the platform as he boarded the train, he kept his head down and his face was a stony mask. He wasn’t surprised to find he was the first to board. His final goodbyes had been short. His parents came first and the exchange was full of tense hugs and half-hearted “good lucks”. His mother’s eyes were full of pity and his father shot a glance that seemed to carry a sort of threat, informing him that winning the games was his only choice. His relationship with his parents had always been strained to say the least. 

The only real goodbye he had was with Nyko, his best friend since childhood. They sat in lengthy silence when he first entered the room. When they did speak Nyko was realistic. He said he hoped he would win, and that he believed there was a good chance he could. The last words he had said still rung in his ears.

“You’re a good man, Lincoln. But you’ll never win by being good.”

He knew it was true, if he wanted to win he would have to become hard and calloused like his father always wanted. He couldn’t let even the slightest bit of emotion come into his mind until the games were over. 

He noticed the world outside his window shift slightly. Even through the condensation he could make out a flurry of movement and hear the faint clicks of the camera. He wiped a spot clear of steam and glanced out at the platform. His fellow tribute was now making her way towards the train. Octavia Blake. She had to be a year or two younger than him. He could tell she lived on the outskirts. She had that look, clothes faded, shoes worn, cheeks slightly sunken. But there was something different about her. She didn’t have the worn down look of dejection typically found in the district’s poorest residents. In fact, as she crossed the platform she turned to stare down every camera with an icy rage. Her chestnut hair was pulled back in braids that framed a deadly sharp jawline. She was very possibly the most stunning girl Lincoln had ever seen.

No. No feelings. He shook his head at his own thoughts. This was not the time to be finding anyone attractive. She would likely be dead within the first day of the games. Her legs had shook as she stood on the stage. Her hands were tiny in his own. A lifetime of surviving on rations had resulted in thin limbs that would likely snap under the slightest of pressure. But still, he couldn’t deny there was something special about her. Something he couldn’t quite place but that made him not want to count her out. 

The doors slid open and Lincoln instinctively clenched his fists around the arms of the chair.

“Fucking hell, it’s freezing out there,” her voice was rougher than he expected. She shook herself a bit like a dog coming in from the rain before sitting down in the seat right next to his. He pressed himself closer to the window. There had to be 15 open seats in their car but of course, she had to pick that one.

“I’m Octavia,” she said, her eyes locked on his, “but I guess you probably already figured that out when my name was dramatically pulled from a fishbowl.”

Lincoln snorted and then clenched the arm rest even harder. God, why did she have to be funny?

“And you’re Lincoln,” it wasn’t a question, she said it with finality and his heart hummed softly at the sound of his name coming from her lips.

“I honestly didn’t expect you to get here before me. I only had two goodbyes, I don’t have many friends,” he could tell she was nervous from the way she was rambling but there was also a sense of feigned ease in her voice and the way she stretched her feet onto the seat across from her.

“You must be a real loser,” she caught herself and shook her head slightly, “no, not a loser...”

She looked him up and down before continuing.

“More like a loner.”

He tried to keep his eyes fixed on the window, but couldn’t resist the urge to sneak sidelong glances at her as she observed the intricate details of the cabin with wide eyes.

“So you’re the strong silent type, aren’t you?” she wiggled her eyebrows playfully and he had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. What the hell was wrong with him, why was this girl making him smile? Or maybe the better question was what the hell was wrong with her, she was the one making jokes in the face of imminent doom.

“It’s nice to meet you, Octavia,” he finally broke his lengthy silence and his voice was quieter than he had intended.

“He speaks,” she was joking but the humor had left her voice and instead the words hung in the air, dull and flat.

“I wish I could say the same,” she continued after a long pause, “but considering the best case scenario for me ends with you dead, ‘nice to meet you too’ hardly feels appropriate.”

She shifted restlessly in her chair and looked away. Those eyes that had been glistening mischievously moments ago were now dark and distant like the storm clouds that loomed outside the windows. He went over everything in his head, wondering how she had gone from joyful to sullen in a matter of seconds. He was pulled out of his thoughts when the doors slid open once more. 

A woman strode across the room and stood before them. Octavia straightened in her chair and Lincoln leaned forward slightly. He recognized the woman instantly. It was Indra, the Victor from District 9 in games before Lincoln was even born. She was an intense woman. Her eyes were dark, her lips pursed, and her face was still marred by scars from her time in the arena.

She said nothing but paced in front of them, stopping first in front of Octavia, looking her up and down, before crossing to stand in front of Lincoln.

“There may be a chance with you,” Indra said plainly, nodding at Lincoln. He was caught off guard by her harsh honesty but he didn’t let it show. Octavia on the other hand, made her surprise quite apparent. 

“What the hell?” the girl leaped out of her chair and turned towards Indra. “You’re supposed to be our mentor. Help either of us win the games. But you come in here and pick a winner like you’re a goddamn gamemaker.”

“I’ve seen enough of these games to know when someone has a chance and when they don’t.” Indra’s voice was steady and her face remained unchanged.

“And would you care to tell me why I have no chance?” her eyes were burning now. She moved closer and stared Indra down. Lincoln couldn’t decide if Octavia was foolish or courageous, probably a bit of both. She got in Indra’s face as if she was completely unaware of the woman’s ability to take her to the floor in mere seconds.

“Look at yourself,” Indra took a step towards Octavia and stared down at her, “thin as a rail, no muscle, all skin and bone. Not to mention the bloodshot eyes that declared to every camera on that platform you were crying like a child.”

Octavia seemed unable to find the right words to form her reply and instead a quiet snarl rumbled in her chest. 

“We’ll be at the Capitol in a few hours, that’s when you’ll really have to prove yourself,” Indra continued on, ignoring Octavia’s rage, “until then, try to collect yourself.”

With that she turned around and left the cabin without a second glance. Lincoln turned his eyes to Octavia, who was still standing in the middle of the cabin. He cleared his throat but before he had a chance to speak Octavia was off in a whirlwind of rage. She kicked the nearest seat and turned towards the door on the opposite side of the cabin. She stomped down the hall, her hand carelessly trailing behind her, shoving glasses, plates, and silverware to the floor. The doors slid open and then quickly closed, Octavia’s frame disappearing behind the frosted glass door. 

Lincoln was alone in the cabin once more. HIs head fell back against the seat and he let out a quiet groan. As the train flew closer to the Capitol he had no idea what was in store for him. But it sure as hell wasn’t going to be easy.


	4. The Capitol

OCTAVIA spent most of the train ride trying to avoid everyone. That included her fellow tribute, her mentor who already hated her, the technicolor monstrosity that was her escort, and the Capitol servants that filled the train. The servants bothered Octavia the most. There were few of them on the train but she always saw them flitting around in her peripheral vision. They never spoke, just stared at her with their wide eyes. They weren’t like what she knew about the Capitol. They weren’t flashy or loud. They were meant to be neither seen nor heard. Something about them gave Octavia the chills whenever they were near.

District 7 wasn’t too far from the Capitol. With the high speed trains, they would be there by nightfall. She was glad she wouldn’t have to sleep on the train, she was already feeling sick from her short stint on the back balcony. Inside the  cars, technology made it feel like a smooth slow ride but outside, wind whipped and pushed her around until her stomach threatened to revolt. There was no way she would ever be able to sleep at 250 miles an hour. Not like there was much hope for sleep in the near future anyway.

The train was obviously designed for longer journeys as it had multiple cars set aside as bedrooms and bathrooms. Even with no intention of sleep, Octavia decided a bedroom was the best place to avoid social interaction. So she slipped into the nearest one and was pleasantly surprised to find she could lock the door behind her. She crossed the small but luxurious room to sit on the cushy window seat. The pane was made of thick glass and there was no way to open it. She wasn’t sure if the heavy duty sealing was to prevent 250 mph winds from rushing in or to stop any tributes who might have ideas of jumping.

She leaned back and watched everything she had ever known disappear around her in a blur of colors. Within an hour the thick trees that filled District 7 had thinned out. She tried to remember her lessons from school and identify the districts they passed through. But it was next to impossible to orient herself as they never went through the main cities, instead tracking through open lands of nature, disrupted only by the occasional farm or quarry. A few hours into the ride a knock came on her door inviting her to dinner. She ignored it and stayed behind her locked door. For probably the first time in her life, she wasn’t hungry.

The setting the sun was splashing the gray sky with oranges and reds when another knock came.

“We’ll be at the Capitol in less than in hour, you should come out and get ready.” She had only heard the voice once before but she could easily recognize it as her mentor.

Octavia scoffed and made no effort to get up from her seat. Why did Indra want her to get ready? She had already made it obvious Octavia was a lost cause. Was waving out a train window really going to make a difference?

“Octavia, stop sulking like a child and open your door,” Indra said, exasperation heavy in her words.

“Why does it matter? Shouldn’t you be off helping Lincoln, you know, the one who actually has a chance,” Octavia couldn’t control her anger and the words rolled off her tongue without a second though. Her face was hot and she suddenly felt stiff and cramped from her perch next to the window.

“My personal opinion won’t stop me from training you the best I can. Believe it or not, I don’t want you to die in that arena.”

There was a long pause after Indra’s words. Octavia thought she might have finally left her alone but then she spoke again.

“I said you have no chance. Prove me wrong.” 

The words hit home for Octavia. She felt tears welling up in her eyes for the hundredth time that day. But no. There was no more time for tears. Bellamy believed in her, he had told her she could win. Indra might not think she had a chance. Hell, the entire population of Panem probably counted her out as soon as she wobbled onto the stage. Even Octavia wasn’t sure she had a shot. But that didn’t mean she was going to give up. She had to try.

When she swung open the door and faced Indra, Octavia almost thought she saw a hint of a smile on her mentor’s scarred face. She walked back into the train car she had first entered and found Lincoln already waiting there. He stood leaning against one of the large windows. Somehow he looked even more serious than before. His brows were furrowed and his dark eyes were clouded in thought. Even from across the room she could see his muscles straining against the thin fabric of his T-shirt. Her heart quickened and she wasn’t sure if the feeling was caused by fear or something else entirely. 

“We’ll be in the Capitol soon, there will be hundreds of fans crowded at the station to get a good look at you,” Indra took a seat and gestured for Octavia and Lincoln to join her, “This is your first real chance to make an impression. The reaping was important of course but what you do with your time in the Capitol matters even more. It’s best to have a strategy in mind before we arrive.”

“A strategy?” Octavia questioned. Of course she knew strategy was important in the arena but she had never considered she would need one before she even got off the train.

“Yes. A strategy,” Indra scowled at her, “You were too busy pouting in your room earlier, but Lincoln and I watched the tapes of the other district’s reapings.”

Shit, that definitely would have been helpful. But there was no way she was admitting that. 

“Each tribute has their own personal style,” Indra continued, “It’s how they win over the audience and hopefully get sponsors. You can choose almost anything, there are hundreds of different angles. Ruthless, intimidating, cocky, flirtatious, innocent, all that matters is you choose something you can really sell. And then you stick with it.”

Octavia looked down at her threadbare pants and nervously poked her finger through a tiny hole. Octavia had never been the most likeable girl in the world. She had a few acquaintances but Bellamy was her only true friend. She was going to have to put on a mask if she wanted to win this thing. 

“What’s your strategy, Lincoln?” Octavia asked, hoping to learn anything about her fellow tribute. 

“Strong, silent, mysterious,” Indra answered for him. Apparently they had already discussed this. Octavia had a lot of catching up to do. Lincoln continued to look away, saying nothing. He was obviously taking the whole strategy thing very seriously.

“Seems about right,” Octavia muttered.

“You still have some time to decide,” Indra explained, “your stylist will help make your first impression.”

“Oh god,” Octavia groaned and slumped down in her chair. Every year the tribute parade was a ridiculous spectacle. The tributes from district 7 always looked hideous. They were either sparkly trees or glamourous lumberjacks. She had almost forgotten about it, being more focused on the having to kill each other aspect of the situation, but now the memory made her want to melt into the floor. Octavia had never worn makeup in her life and the closest she had come to high fashion was a hair ribbon Bellamy bought her for her ninth birthday.

“You’ll look like a fool, but the Capitol will eat it up,” Indra sounded almost sympathetic.

As Indra continued to lecture on strategy the world outside the window slowly started to shift and change. After they crossed through a tunnel in a tall wall they emerged in another world entirely. Octavia couldn’t help but gasp. All around them rose enormous metal structures, taller than any building she had seen in her life. She craned her neck up and could just barely see the tops disappearing into the night sky. The city was dark but full of energy. Lights dotted each window in almost every building. Here there was obviously no rationing of electricity like there was at home. Down below the train tracks crowds of people in brightly colored clothes bustled on the dark road, looking like reflective rainbows on a puddle of oil. 

“Welcome to the Capitol,” Indra sounded less than enthused and the look in her eyes was one of pure dread.

The train started to slow as they approached the station. For the second time Octavia felt her breath leave her lungs in a sharp gasp. People filled every visible inch of the platform. Now that she was close to them she could see their faces more clearly. They all wore heavy makeup and hair so big and colorful it had to be fake. The clothes were extravagant, full of lace and tulle. She even spotted a few faces in the crowd with physical alterations. Some had spotted skin, sharp teeth, or gold eyes, they seemed to share more similarities with wild animals than humans. The bright lights of the platform cast shadows all around that made them look somewhat demonic.

They all screamed and cheered  at the train but Octavia stood dumbfounded and unmoving. She was pulled out of her trance when she saw Lincoln shift next to her. He wasn’t smiling but his hand was raised in the slightest wave. Shit, she needed to do something. She forced a smile and tapped on the glass playfully, wriggling her finger to wave at the crowd. She must have done something right because the crowd pulsed and thrived around them. Cameras flashed and people waved back and blew kisses. 

As soon as the train pulled out of sight she raised her middle finger in the direction of the audience. Lincoln scoffed next to her. 

“It’s sick,” he hadn’t spoken to her since she first boarded and she was once again caught off guard by his deep rasp, “the way they come from all over the city. They act like they love us when they can’t wait to watch us die.” 

“I hate it. I hate them. Almost as much as I hate myself for playing along,” Octavia kicked angrily at the leg of the nearest seat.

She met Lincoln’s eyes for a moment, they were wide and understanding. He quickly looked away but she couldn’t shake the feeling he had looked right into her soul. She was starting to realize he might hate these games as much as she did. Maybe he wasn’t the cold-blooded killer she thought he was. Afterall, he was like her, just a kid. And that realization made things so much worse.

 

The train pulled into a more private section of the station and they were quickly ushered off and into a nearby building. Apparently it was the Remake Center. The tribute parade wasn’t until the next day, giving time for the tributes from further districts to arrive. Octavia was shown to a room where she could spend the night before her makeover in the morning.

The room was nice like everything in the Capitol and the mattress was more comfortable than anything she’d ever had to sleep on. She still only got three hours of sleep maximum. Strangely enough, it was hard to rest when possible death was looming only weeks away. 

Breakfast was first in the morning. She hadn’t eaten since before the Reaping but she didn’t realize how hungry she was until the smell hit her. There was a wide spread of breads, eggs, meats, and pastries. Her Escort promised the food would be better when they got to their more permanent location in the training center but it was the best thing Octavia had ever tasted. 

After breakfast she was taken away to start her beautification process. She was surrounded by a strange assortment of people who made up her prep team. Based on their appearances she didn’t want them having any part in her styling. But she didn’t have much of a choice. First they stuck her in a tub, scrubbing her entire body and shampooing her hair. Octavia was extremely uncomfortable with an entourage of men and women putting their hands all over her naked body but the prep team were seemingly unfazed by her numerous complaints. Next they took scissors to her hair. Octavia begged them not to cut it too short, it needed to be long enough to pull into braids. And she didn’t want a drastic haircut that would make her look almost unrecognizable. She wanted to look like herself if her body was sent home to her family in a casket. The team rolled their eyes but complied, only trimming off a few inches of split ends. 

The next few hours were hell as they ripped out nearly every hair on her body aside from what was on her head. They rubbed her down with a cocktail of lotions and oils. Octavia was ready to crawl out of her skin when they finally stepped back, looking satisfied with their work. 

“Alright, I think you’re _finally_ ready to meet with your stylist,” the head of her prep team said with a lilting voice. The only thing stranger than the appearance of the Capitol citizens was their accent. The woman’s voice even topped the pink braids that were so long they brushed against the floor when she sat down.

Octavia looked herself over in the full length mirror her prep team had set out. Her skin looked smoother and softer than she had ever seen it. Their oils must have had some magical properties because the dark circles under her eyes were gone and her cheeks even looked less sunken and hollow. Her nails were manicured and her dark hair fell cleanly down her shoulders. Octavia had to admit she didn’t look half bad. She almost looked...pretty. For now at least. Soon her stylist would inevitably chisel away at her dignity with makeup and an outlandish wardrobe.

“Wait, I have an idea. I just need one more thing,” Octavia tried to sound confident even though she was in no position to make demands.

The prep team peered at her curiously, the leader’s penciled eyebrows raising comically. The team shared a look as if to say “this should be good”. Octavia cleared her throat and explained her idea. The more she talked the more the team smiled and nodded. Their eyes lit up like a kid about to open a present.

“I think that can be arranged,” the woman with the bubble gum hair patted her shoulder and flashed a set of bejeweled teeth. 

As the team busied themselves preparing to fill her request Octavia let out a sigh of relief. At least she still had some control over her body. In a way, her idea was a tiny act of rebellion. If she was going to have to play the game she was going to do it on her own damn terms.


End file.
